


I don't wanna be your friend (I wanna kiss your neck.)

by dollyeo, predicate



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dick Jokes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, body swapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 22:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/dollyeo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/predicate/pseuds/predicate
Summary: Soonyoung wakes up in Wonwoo's body. This is officially the worst day of his life.





	I don't wanna be your friend (I wanna kiss your neck.)

The morning after New Year’s Eve, Soonyoung wakes up in someone else’s room.

At first, he thinks nothing of it. Drinking alcohol as a legitimate adult now is so different from greedily stealing sips of it from his cousin’s apartment, and even then he’s barely gotten much practice to get used to it. He remembers his uncles and older cousins plying him with drink after drink, partly to get him out of his bad mood, but mostly to watch him make a fool of himself. He remembers his mother nagging him even as she pushed his hair back from his forehead in the bathroom, words sharp and biting, muddled as he dry-heaved and gagged the contents of his stomach out. He remembers, too, the cold surface of the toilet seat. The cloying smell of air freshener his sister sprayed to keep out the alcohol fumes. The single, sobering thought, that maybe he shouldn’t have been so stupid and easy to goad.

It’s a recurring mantra he’s had since before going back home for the holidays, really. Maybe everyone has a point about him being a little too hot-tempered for his own good.

He’s half-expecting a thunderous headache to accompany the hangover, the way his father always complains when he drinks too much after the holidays. When he wakes up, though, there’s nothing but fuzzy, his mind blank and feeling full of cotton, as stale as the dryness in his mouth. He scratches his stomach, then wonders if maybe someone had changed his shirt overnight to get rid of the sweat stains and the residual vomit. His sister always complains that he gets babied a lot, but today’s one of those days he’s grateful for it— at least he doesn’t have to roll out of bed and straight into the shower just to get rid of any questionable and gross substances.

It’s when he feels around for his phone that things start to register in his head that maybe something’s not right. Instead of a battered, phased-out Samsung he’d inherited from his sister, he sees an iPhone under the pillow instead. It’s one of the newer models too— one he’d only eyed with envy and contemplated getting a part-time job for until he’d gotten teased about how his brain wouldn’t be able to switch to the interface so easily. It’s not— it’s not an easy thing to swallow, feeling poor around other people. Harder still, to feel inadequate, like it’s not enough.

For a moment, he’s struck with the insane idea that it’s a belated New Year’s gift from his parents, but the lock screen yields no answers, no note, nothing. Unease settles in his stomach slowly as he sits up in bed, and when he looks around the room, it’s only then he realizes that it doesn’t look remotely similar to his own, no.

He scrambles out of bed, fingers shaking as he tries to figure out how to use the emergency number on the unknown phone. He almost trips on the comforter— a real, heavily-padded comforter instead of his soft, cartoon-printed blanket, _holy shit_ — and an extension cord littered with at least three hazardous chargers, what the _fuck_ , but it’s the clothes on the bedroom floor that become his undoing; he falls to the ground with a yelp, expecting to meet solid wood with his face, but the impact is dampened by the touch of the carpet against his cheek. Whoever it is that’s kidnapped him is a lot loaded than he is, that’s for sure. Maybe he should think about negotiating to stay a bit longer…

His musing is interrupted by the sound of some weird ringtone coming from the iPhone— it sounds like one of those opening songs his cousins like to listen to when they’re slacking off while studying and sneakily watching anime instead, and for a moment Soonyoung’s filled with the vague sense of hope that he’d somehow sleepwalked to their homes even without knowing their addresses, but that’s just too absurd. The most reasonable explanation is kidnapping, _clearly_. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries not to feel as nervous as his sweaty palms are indicating, though his stomach swoops even lower as he looks at the screen.

It's his own number.

Already, he feels light-headed and out of his depth, and he has a brief period of hysteria as he thinks about all the horror movies he’s watched in the past two decades of his life flash in his mind. This is how all of those death scenes start, really. It’s One Missed Call all over again and he’s _next_.

He has half a mind to reject the call, but a loud, rapping noise comes from the next room over, a terse, strangely familiar voice yelling at him to “answer the dumb phone, hyung, or else I’m gonna strangle you awake!” In his panic, his thumb fumbles to answer the phone, shoulders squared and feeling very, very small and terrified for his life.

“H-hello?” He asks, voice sounding low and rough, gravelly from sleep. He licks his lips, then tries again. “Who is this? What are you doing with my phone?”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna delete me from your contacts, huh?” Comes a stroppy, annoyed voice not unlike his own. “Very mature, Soonyoung.”

“What the hell? Who the fuck are _you_?”

“Check in the mirror, idiot,” says the stranger. “Then you’ll figure it out for yourself.”

He pushes himself off of the floor, scrambling up to head over to the nearest dresser. He takes one long, lingering look at it, wide-eyed and pale-faced, and screams.

*

There’s a few guys in his uni classes that Soonyoung decides early on doesn’t like. Some of them are just too stuck-up, too full of themselves, unapproachable and intimidating like they’re stuck in high school playing the popular game and haven’t gotten the memo that uni isn’t about that kind of life anymore. Some just wanna leech off of Soonyoung’s Math homework, slackers with no concept of hard work or responsibility now that they’re free from the shackles of cram school. Some of them are, unfortunately, objectively attractive, but their terrible personalities and propensity for awkward silences just turn Soonyoung off completely.

Only one of them, unfortunately, fits all three criteria, and still thinks they’re friends. Soonyoung doesn’t know how or why he’s gotten stuck with having Jeon Wonwoo terrorize his Intro to Calculus class with his annoying presence, but apparently they’re _friends_ now that they’re friends of each other’s friends, and they conveniently share more breaks than any other person in their friend circle combined.

Soonyoung had thought he’d been doing an excellent job at avoiding Wonwoo like a plague and hanging out with some of the older upperclassmen instead of suffering through his presence, but everywhere he turns, it’s like Wonwoo’s always there, watching, _judging_. Most days, Soonyoung just whines at anyone who will listen about how Wonwoo’s just too difficult to be with for longer than an hour, but they mostly just pat his head and tell him he’s a hopeless case. Whether they mean Wonwoo or him, Soonyoung doesn’t know, but he doesn’t like how Wonwoo makes him feel small most of the time, how it feels like Wonwoo’s just there because he likes to watch Soonyoung put his foot into his mouth and flounder.

So _of course_ the universe would decide it would be an excellent idea that if there were anyone in the world that Soonyoung would magically wake up and take over their body, it would be Jeon fucking Wonwoo, wouldn’t it? The universe can go fuck itself.

*

Several minutes of hyperventilating and worried hovering from Wonwoo’s mom and brother later, Soonyoung’s bundled up in Wonwoo’s (really fucking toasty) comforter and nursing a mug of hot tea as he tries to keep from sinking into yet another panic attack. Wonwoo’s opted to log into Soonyoung’s PC (“Why do you keep your password stuck on a note on your screen? Do you _want_ your family to see your porn?”) and use the instant messenger after using up Soonyoung’s phone credits yelling at him to shut up and calm down. Wonwoo’s given him his passcode grudgingly in exchange, a really obscure one that Soonyoung, for the life of him, can’t figure out what it even stands for, so Soonyoung has to find a notepad and a pen to jot the numbers down before he completely forgets about it.

It’ll be useful in the future in case Wonwoo annoys him enough that he could always try to hack into Wonwoo’s phone and send embarrassing messages to all of the people they know, but the more depressing part of Soonyoung bemoans about the possibility of never even returning to his own body. What if he’s stuck in Wonwoo’s forever? What if he has to deal with Wonwoo’s dumb face and his impossible bedhead and his fucking stubble that grows way too fast? _What if_?

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo grumbles into the web call, pausing from (allegedly) researching online for anything to get them back to normal. “I’m an upgrade from _your_ bare face, you know.”

“Staying in your body makes me feel like I’m a boneless slacker being swallowed up by your bed,” Soonyoung despairs. “Don’t you _ever_ exercise?”

“I’m a perfectly healthy person,” says Wonwoo, affronted. “I just don’t like moving much.”

 _Lazy_ , Soonyoung thinks of saying, but there’s a restless, itching feeling in his nether regions that he’s been trying to ignore since he’d realized it even insisted. He hesitates, muscles clenching at the feeling, and lets Wonwoo ramble on about how everything’s a fucking mess and Soonyoung’s being an even bigger ass about this whole thing until he finally can’t take it anymore and blurts out Wonwoo’s name.

“What?” Wonwoo pauses in his tirade, strangely quick to shut up at Soonyoung’s halting tone. Soonyoung feels his throat lock up, and he bites his lip.

“I need to pee,” says Soonyoung, voice small.

“What?”

“I said, your fucking bladder is threatening to explode, okay? Don’t make me say it again!”

Wonwoo sounds annoyed when he speaks again after a long, measured moment. “Then just go to the bathroom already? Do you need someone to hold your hand? Do you not know how to pee by yourself yet?”

“I don’t wanna look at or even touch your junk!” Soonyoung splutters. “That’s an invasion of privacy!”

“Soonyoung, it’s just my dick. It’s not gonna bite you or anything.”

“But— it’s still weird!”

“God, I forgot you were a bit of a prude,” says Wonwoo, and Soonyoung can already envision his eyerolling clear as day. “For all the dirty jokes you make, you’re even more uptight than an ahjumma.”

“I’m not a prude!”

“Then why is it so hard for you to even do it? I was perfectly fine this morning.”

Soonyoung opens his mouth. Then closes it. He opens it again. “Have _you_ looked at my dick?”

“Of course I have,” says Wonwoo, still sounding unimpressed. “How’d I get rid of your morning wood otherwise?”

“ _Jeon Wonwoo_ —”

“Relax, princess,” Wonwoo snaps. “I just took a cold shower. I’m not gonna ruin your innocence, I promise.”

“You’d better not,” Soonyoung threatens. “I’m gonna chop your balls off if you do anything weird to my body!”

“I should be saying the same to you,” says Wonwoo, tersely. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Like what? Be nice and friendly like a decent, normal person?” Soonyoung scoffs.

“No, like breaking my stuff and forgetting to wear clean clothes,” says Wonwoo, sarcasm dripping in his tone. Or maybe not. Being an asshole is his default mode, though it sounds weird coming from Soonyoung’s own voice. “Now go pee and don’t forget to sanitize before you give my body a UTI. I don’t care if you feel weird about it. Just _do_ it.”

“But—”

“What? Are you afraid you’re gonna realize my dick’s actually bigger than yours?” Wonwoo challenges, mocking as ever.

Soonyoung hangs up.

*

Turns out, Wonwoo’s right about that. _Damn it_.

**Author's Note:**

>  **as of 06/30/2019:** not updating. please don't ask for updates.


End file.
